


Lions & Ravens

by CateBeLate



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: BuckyNat Secret Santa, Cute, F/M, Fluffy, Harry Potter AU, a few cameos - Freeform, a lot of characters are sorted on my own preference, bucky's a nervous gryffindor, for Nixie_DeAngel, hogwarts students au, i'm still laughing over thor being a hufflepuff, not a huge deal though, probably the start of something bigger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 13:17:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17345918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CateBeLate/pseuds/CateBeLate
Summary: My first submission to BuckyNat Secret Santa! A small Harry Potter AU with some of the characters thrown in for a cameo experience. Can James man up and do something about the Ravenclaw he had a crush on since they were all sorted into their respectful houses? Maybe the butterbeer can help a bit. I may end up doing chapters on top of this because of how fun it was to write. Enjoy!





	Lions & Ravens

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nixie_DeAngel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nixie_DeAngel/gifts).



In swirls of delicate dancing, the snow fell in silent the softest of fashions, painting a dark landscape in the purest of ivories. Malevolence and cruelty were planets away as something far more yuletide engulfed the landscape, dimming the brightest of youthful laughter with each snowflake fallen. In such a cold landscape, the comfort of company burned warmly, veiling cheeks in rosiness from smiles too wide. Nutmeg and pine spiced the air in homeliness yet the yearning for ‘home’ or any variety of it became a rare commodity. Company within The Three Broomsticks was as loud and boisterous as the Great Hall during its most competitive of Quidditch seasons. Warm butterbeer was served by the droves, filtering through the magical youths of Hogwarts in dutiful fashion. Not a single pair of lips would be parched, and Madam Rosmerta would see to that personally if need be.

Within the walls of the pub, the house colors of Hogwarts blended together in a kaleidoscope rainbow of school spirit - greens and golds, crimsons and navy blues. In flourishes of obsidian, students came together without their house pretenses - or so most were under the impression of such. Friendships forged past the boundaries of founders’ legacy were rare in their conception yet deeply rooted in their execution.

It was why at one particular table within the warmly lit pub there sat brave Gryffindors, cunning Slytherins, neurotic Ravenclaws, and happy Hufflepuffs. Even without their ties designating their home within stone and mortar, their attitudes gravely gave away their sorted destinies.

“Is there anything you won’t do for a galleon?” It was a particularly snarky tone that had come across the rounded table, the usual group of loosely connected students finding joy in one another’s company. Tony Stark, a typical Ravenclaw, was almost offended for the three Gryffindors sharing the table with him.

“Man, a galleon’s a galleon. I wanted to go to Honeydukes before heading back,” Sam Wilson retorted, incapable of finding the shame that Tony was attempting to provoke. “Besides, there’s nothing to chugging a pint of butterbeer.”

“AYE!” In his usual loud fashion, Thor took a seat at the table with both steins of his choice before him. Rare was it that the surprisingly large Hufflepluff didn’t indulge when given ample opportunity. Everyone in the same year could recall the collective gasp that overcame the Great Hall when he’d been sorted as a badger and not, as everyone had assumed, a lion. “Nothing to it at all, my friends.”

Beside him sat another badger, Wanda, who had passed on the usual libations and settled for tea. It’d only make sense that at the end of her cup, she’d try her hand at some divination by reading what was left in her cup. More often than not, she only saw that she needed another serving of tea. Though her company was loud, Wanda was mostly quiet, offsetting Thor to maintain some semblance of balance in their dynamic.

“I think it’d only take a sickle to get ol’ Sammie here to chug it, honestly.” With a heart slap on his back, James Barnes had made sure to get a bit of ribbing in on his friend and fellow Gryffindor. Steve sat on the other side of James, choosing to stay out of this supposed “lover’s quarrel” that was sure to snap into existence. The blonde was actually trying to ignore the majority of the table, talking to a Slytherin named Bruce. If there was one thing their group needed, it was a little bit of green. Might as well be all-inclusive, right?

“Now you’re just making me look pathetic. I have standards, James. Come on.” It was a pitiful resistance, painted brightly with smiles and snickers.

Time wore on and different people sat at their table, sifting through those who stayed to say hello to those who shared a warm drink. It was shaping to be an absolutely lovely weekend in Hogsmeade, the fire in the expansive fireplace roaring away to keep the warm even warmer.

The arrival of anyone in the pub was preceded by frigid breeze from outside, often bringing a few wayward snowflakes to meet their untimely demise. This particular flash of ice brought a few eyes to drift upwards from the large table, and they snapped to attention through the fog the butterbeer brought with it. Tony particularly sat upright, which generally meant one thing: his competition was here.

There’d been one Ravenclaw who had managed to challenge him in every subject, every class, every moment - and it was her. Rather than grow fond over the experience, a bitterness crept in through an alert attitude. This was awful.

“I think it’s time for me to make my way to Hog’s Head,” he said, completely assuming that her presence meant he was unwelcome.

Her. This girl.

James saw the way Tony was reacting, and through the depth of each emotion flitting across his features, he knew exactly who walked through that door.

A Ravenclaw girl. The Ravenclaw Girl. She was infamous. With a sharp wit, an almost obsessive need to be organized, and an almost uncanny way of reading people, Natasha Romanoff had proven herself to be poster child for her house. A vibe of near palpable intimidation radiated off her to keep the weaker beings at bay with what she perceived as pointless drivel.

But he knew - James knew that if he even happened a glance over his shoulder, all his friends at this table would roast him like he was a Christmas ham.

Is it weird that he could smell the faintest hint of jasmine in the pub now? This was ridiculous. When he finally happened to glance up from his drink, he saw that all eyes were trained on him, save for Tony who had already made his hasty retreat to a far less reputable establishment. This crush that had begun their first year, when he first saw her awaiting judgement from the Sorting Hat, was slowly expanding into something far deeper, all of which layered upon itself with subtle interactions and glances. He was mostly certain she knew he existed. Sort of certain she knew his name.

“What?” He finally said, annoyed at the lack of conversation. The silence generally meant they were all on the same page mentally. It would only take one person to broach the topic of the obvious conflict for the rest to join in.

“She’s out of your league.” It’d been Wanda who had said it quietly into her warm drink, not even looking at James. All eyes had actually turned to her since she’d been remarkably silent the entire day save for just now. This didn’t seem to really come to her attention until just now, honeyed eyes glancing between everyone. “What? I don’t make the tea. I just serve it.”

So what is the best response in this situation? Some would take it as a sign of defeat - Wanda and Natasha were close friends. Some would take it as a warning - proceed with caution but at least try.

What does a Gryffindor do?

He finishes off his butterbeer in one gulp, assessing the challenge.

He stands up in defiance, accepting the challenge, wiping the hoppy foam from his upper lip.

And in a show of sheer bravery, he began what felt like a fifty mile trek towards the girl with hair the same shade as his house colors. Obviously the crimson and not the gold, though he figured she’d look stunning regardless of hair color. It was as if time were slowing and James could see all the eyes that were turning to him. His innocent crush wasn’t entirely well-concealed, yet he had assumed she didn’t know considering nothing had changed over the course of three years. His classmates were quick to make the connection, and it did very, very little to his already wavering nerves. Brave as he may be, James had limits.

He was fastly approaching one of them.

She’d been at the counter, loose curls acting as fire against the darkness of her robes, setting an almost impossible contrast that drew even more attention to her beauty. James hadn’t really realized how quietly the entire pub had gotten, which was something of a godsend considering that would’ve only added more pressure. At least this way, it could be wholly ignored.

A clearing of his throat should be enough to get her attention, right? Enough to make her turn around and face him?

“James,” she said, completely uprooting his plan of action and making it utterly useless. “Can I help you?”

And that was when she turned, holding a pint of butterbeer in one hand, and the other grasping a bag from Honeydukes. She had a sweet tooth, and it was a piece of information he squirreled away to later ruminate over.

“Uh,” he began, as most of his moments of brilliance tend to. But in this moment of doubt, where he began to feel that sensation prickle over the entirety of his bravery, he knew that if one thing were to push him past this imaginary social wall, it’d be spite. And so, because he knew that the majority of the pub’s populace were firm believers that he’d step away or come up with some kind of excuse to not say what he was about to say, James pushed forward.

“Yule Ball is coming up. I was wondering if you’d do me the honor allowing me to accompany you.” He had hoped that didn’t sound too rehearsed. While this may have appeared to be a spur the moment sort of confrontation, it was actually one he’d daydreamed over during Herbology more often than not. It’d explain his lack of understanding the subject.

What had only been the length of two heartbeats felt like the entirety of the universe spanned between them. Eyes of the most unique shade of emerald stared at him - observing. He knew she was scrutinizing him, as most of her housemates tended to do in precarious situations. His younger sister, Becca, had unbearably been sorted into the Ravenclaw house as well, so these particular habits of studying and weighing consequences hadn’t been an tirely foreign concept to him. In fact, he welcomed it with a lopsided grin.

“Surely you can take a night off from studying to feign social interaction.” A jab of light humor came from him, his confidence masking the subtle fear that was coming with her silence. Perhaps that suddenly apparent iciness was just someone coming through the door once more, and yet he knew better. At this point, James would prefer an assassination of his pride and ego in comparison to the lengthy silence.

“Surely I can,” she replied, and he swore he saw the slightest of curls to her lips, veiling his world in a shade of peach almost too perfect to be natural. “I’ll be sure to let you know the color of my dress so you may order the appropriate corsage, yes?”

Wait.

“Yes, absolutely.”

“Then we’ve reached an agreement. I’ll let you know soon.” And as swiftly as the exchange had begun, Natasha turned around, closing herself off to enjoy her pint at the counter rather than at a table with her fellow classmates.

James moved back to his own table, retreating in a glow of triumph and confidence. In doing so, his friends immediately took in the look he gave them, and immediately assumed that he had somehow managed to weasel his way past the redhead’s defenses and actually get somewhere. As he sat down, a glance was shot to Wanda, who only peered over her cup of tea at him with an almost bored look. His actions did little to sway her of her original beliefs.

But even among the quiet congratulations and premature planning, one thing ate away at the back of his mind.

What in Merlin’s beard was a corsage?


End file.
